


Angels Guard Thee

by Sturzkampf



Category: Widdershins (Webcomic)
Genre: Gen, Inspired by Music
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-22
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-27 14:49:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5052862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sturzkampf/pseuds/Sturzkampf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <b>From the Memoirs of Professor Sir Benjamin Thackerey FRSW DMg KCMG</b>
  <br/>
  <i>Circumstances force Nicola Barber to employ Thackerey and Company to help bring a dangerous criminal to justice. Their talents may be exactly what she needs, if only she can resist the temptation to kill them first. </i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Perils of Intoxicating Beverages

 “A successful afternoon I feel.” declared Heinrich Wolfe, “and in celebration I buy both of you beer, even if it is brown and warm. _Kommen Sie_.” It had indeed been a long but rewarding day. Malforms seem to be attracted by the long hot spells you get sometimes in early May, even in Yorkshire. Perhaps it is the returning spring increasing the activity of the Widdershins Great Anchor. On the other hand, perhaps it is simply that the hot and humid weather makes wizards less alert and more prone to making mistakes. Whatever the reason, it had meant more work for Thackerey and Company, Widdershins’ premier malform removal service, and we had struggled to respond to no fewer than four call outs to deal with particularly energetic results of miscast spells. At one stage I had even considered loosening my cravat, but I had resisted the temptation; one has to maintain professional standards after all, especially when one of my employees, despite my best efforts, insists on looking as scruffy as possible. You could put O’Malley into a fifty guinea suit and he would still look as though he’d slept under a hedge.

I was looking forward to relaxing with a good book back at our lodgings, but Wolfe and O’Malley insisted that we ‘celebrate’ the day’s work in a common tavern.

“I don't feel comfortable in crowds and I don't drink intoxicating beverages,” I protested, but Wolfe and O'Malley already had me by the elbows and almost frog-marched me into The Hunter's Folly, the public house conveniently situated near to our combined business premises and lodgings. To make things worse, as we entered we saw a familiar figure at the bar.

“Look Ben, there is the fair Captain Barber,” said Wolfe. “We met her during that unfortunate incident at the lamp oil factory you remember?” How could I forget? “Such a charming, sweet young lady.”

“Charming?! Sweet?!” I exclaimed. “You do know that she was thrown out of the Royal Marines for unnecessary brutality?”

“Na ja, that was merely an unfortunate misunderstanding.” Talking to Wolfe often makes me feel as though I am living in some bizarre alternative universe. I didn't bother to press my point; it would only have given me a headache. Fortunately Captain Barber was engaged in an intense discussion with another young woman so she did not notice us.

They put me in a corner seat where I tried desperately to avoid making eye contact with any of the other patrons in case they came over and assaulted me in a drunken rage. Nevertheless, I could not help looking when the woman talking to Captain Barber, obviously the suspect in some criminal investigation, suddenly got up from her stool with a most unladylike expression and stormed out. I was expecting Captain Barber to rush after her in hot pursuit, but instead the policewoman turned back to her glass of fruit juice with a face like thunder, which was unfortunate, because she saw Wolfe and O’Malley getting our drinks at the bar. She scowled at Wolfe’s friendly greeting.

There is always an uncomfortable moment in a public house before you get your first drink. In that time, you are an outsider, looked at with suspicion, as someone who doesn't belong, and not only by the other patrons. It was not until Wolfe came back with my drink that, somehow, the scrutiny was removed. It was as though the spirit of the place, its walls imbued by generations of drunkards, was watching me, judging me. Once I had a drink in my hand it accepted me and its feelings of hostility vanished.

I looked at the pint of liquid placed before me with suspicion. Unlike O’Malley and Wolfe’s nut-brown ale, this was a cloudy, yellow-green liquid. I could almost see little animalcules swimming around in it.

“What is this?” I asked.

“Why, this is scrumpy,” said Wolfe innocently. Just apple juice really. Hardly alcoholic at all. Taste it and you will see. It is completely natural and it is refreshing and good for you.” I really should have picked up on the smirks, but it had been a long day and I was tired. I took a suspicious sip. Actually it was apple juice with hardly a twang of alcohol and the coolness made me realise how thirsty I was. Once half the glass had been consumed to my surprise I even started to relax a little.

However, just when I thought it might be safe to let my guard down, Captain Barber walked over to our table. At least Wolfe could be relied on to do all the talking and fill any uneasy silences.

“Captain Barber, it is good to see you again!” he exclaimed with his habitual open smile. “Your fair face lights up our dull existence!” The Captain gave an impatient snort of disdain, but I know that she likes him really, just like all the other women do. Ignoring the small talk, she came straight to the point.

“So, I understand that you lot have set up as an independent malform removal service.”

“Why yes, it is something that the town has needed for some time,” I replied. “State-controlled systems are always inefficient and I feel that privatisation will be of benefit to everyone.”

“Do you include the police in that? Maybe you think we would be better off as a private enterprise?”

“Er…”

“A professional wizard, specialising in malform removal is surely beneficial to everyone?” Wolfe interjected smoothly.

“Professional wizard? You mean Mr O’Malley’s little ‘gift’. That’s the thing you rely on really isn’t it?”

“If you put it like that…”

“That’s why I’ve come over here. I never thought I’d have to say this, but I have a job for O’Malley.” She sounded as though the words were being forced out of her under torture.

“Help the police? Me?” O’Malley exclaimed, as though he’d been asked to murder his grandmother.

“I’m not thrilled about the prospect either, but it’s that or let a criminal go free. Either option makes my lungs fill with bile, but in the end the needs of justice tip the scales. So, straight question, O’Malley. You can see people’s spirits right? You can see b*ggerups, right? So, in that case, can you see spirits that are in things? Can you detect imbued objects?”

“Actually, that was two questions...” I began.

“Yes or no!”

“Er, yeah,” replied O’Malley. “I can see if stuff is magical or not. Ye wouldn’t believe some of the stuff that…”

“Right. Good. I’m hiring you lot to help me locate a rogue magic item.”

“Ah, excellent,” exclaimed Wolfe. “I believe the fair Captain has presented us with a new business model. Diversification is always good, yes?”

I was horrified. “But... but we can’t do that!” I exclaimed. “We don’t have a licence from the Royal Society! The only people who are allowed to find and retrieve magical items are licensed hunters!”

“That only counts for items being sought by the public,” retorted Captain Barber. “As a police officer I can employ whoever I choose to aid me with my inquiries. And right now, I need O’Malley’s ‘talent’, God help me.” She looked as though she was about to be physically ill.

“Even so, the Royal Society aren’t going to like it.”

“That is their problem! Those stuffed shirts can take their rules and shove them up their…”

“Surely, your sister is a hunter?” interrupted Wolfe, trying to placate her. “I am sure I saw her name in the papers. Would not she be able to assist you?” Unfortunately this seemed to make Captain Barber even angrier.

“No, she could not! She has already shown herself to be completely unreliable and untrustworthy! And when I complained to the Royal Society they took her side. And my superiors were no help either, d*mned old boy network! So s*d the lot of them and I’ll show them that the police can handle dangerous rogue magical items without their help! Will this be a problem?”

“It will most certainly will be a problem! There is no way that we can get involved in a dispute between the police force and the Royal Society! Either organisation could easily ruin my entire business with a few strokes of the pen! They could have my wizard licence revoked!” That was what I was about to say. Unfortunately, Wolfe got in before me.

“Of course this will not be a problem!” he assured her. “We are always ready to step in and help the police and I am sure that I can arrange a most generous rate for the noble guardians of the law and especially for such a fair young lady as yourself.”

“Yeah, right,” grouched O’Malley unenthusiastically.

“Come Mal, it will be just like hunting b*ggerups, no? Except that they will not try and run away or attack us and we will not even need to desummon them afterwards.” O’Malley looked unconvinced. “So, Captain, what is this dangerous artefact that you wish us to find for you?”

“Look, it’s a perfectly simple job,” replied the Captain, ignoring O’Malley and me, so I never did get a chance to raise my forebodings of inevitable disaster. “We’ve arrested a wizard called Dr Price for making an illegal artefact. He’s some nutter who thinks he’s the reincarnation of an ancient druid or something. He imbued a staff with the spirit of domination and has been using it to get people to join a new pagan religion he has invented, starting off by getting them all dancing around with no clothes on and probably ending up with virgin sacrifices for all I know.”

“We know he was using his staff to convert his ‘congregation’, but to prove anything we have to find the wretched thing. The trouble is, he has taken the old adage of hiding a tree in a forest literally. There’s a copse on his estate. When we came to arrest him we know he hid the staff in there somewhere but so far we haven’t been able to find it. From the descriptions we have it looks just like any other piece of wood, so it could be anywhere. And until we do find it, we won’t be able to get a conviction. If O’Malley can see it among all those trees, we can recover it and hang the b*stard.”

“Don’t you have specially trained dogs that can smell magic?” I asked. “One of those should be able to find your missing artefact without any trouble.”

“Our dog is… is not available at the moment,” she muttered angrily.

“Dun tell me that someone’s nicked it!” exclaimed O’Malley, lighting another of his disgusting roll-ups. For a moment I thought he was going to get his nose broken again. He very wisely dropped the subject, but not his annoying leer.

“So far, our wizards have drawn a blank.” Captain Barber continued through clenched teeth. “There are various… things… in the woods too. Possibly some sort of guardians, possibly no more than a load of b*ggerups. He wasn’t the greatest wizard in the world. He has a duff degree from that second rate Belial College at Oxford too.” I felt the personal insult; clearly Captain Barber still hadn’t forgiven me for appearing as an expert witness for the defence in the trial of Ms Feng ( _Editor’s note: see_[ _The Speech for the Defence_](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3631698)).

“I am sure that we will be more than capable of dealing with any magical problems that we may encounter,” I told her with some pride. She looked at me with contempt.

 “Just remember that you are civilians, even if you do make a living from b*ggerups,” she asserted. “Yes, you can help, but always remember if a dangerous situation does develop then follow my lead and let me go in first. I'm the trained professional and the upholder of the law so I'm the one that should take the risks. Don't...”

“No that's a really bad idea.” I interrupted. “You should not be taking any risks at all. You should let us go in first and deal with it.” For some reason Wolfe and O’Malley turned and looked at me as though I had suddenly grown a third eye in the middle of my forehead.

“Why?” asked Captain Barber. “Do you think because you are a wizard and you have the benefits of Mr O'Malley's 'talent',” - she made little bracketing motions with her fingers to indicate the inverted commas - “you will be better able to deal with any dangerous situation?”

“Oh no,” I told her happily. “You shouldn't go in first because you’re a girl.”

O'Malley told me later that the expression on the Captain's face at that point was so frightening that he seriously considered bursting through the window and running all the way to Holyhead. Wolfe declares he was ready to fling himself between us to give his life bravely to save mine. For some reason I completely missed any negative reaction at the time.

“Are you saying that I am less capable because of my gender? What difference does my being a woman make?” There was a certain edge to Captain Barber’s voice.

“Well, not just a woman,” I assured her. “A very attractive young lady. A thing of beauty. If anything bad were to happen to you, why then the world would be diminished because you were no longer in it. Now my colleagues here, and myself, although worthy men, well mostly, could quite happily vanish off the face of the earth and there would be no difference. So you see, you should let us take the risk and look after yourself, because you are too precious to lose.”

Captain Barber looked at me in utter fury for what seemed like a very long time, then slammed down her glass.

“Be at the Finger Post at 10am tomorrow morning!” she snapped, then stormed out of the tavern without another word. Wolfe and O’Malley breathed long sighs of relief.

I stared after her in puzzlement. “Was it something I said?” I reviewed the last few minutes of conversation and a light began to dawn. I reached over to my almost empty glass, which looked strangely out of focus. My cheeks felt rather numb. “This scrumpy. It's got alcohol in it, hasn't it? Quite a lot in fact.” I thought through the conversation again. “She's going to kill me isn't she?”

Wolfe put a companionable arm around my shoulder. “Fear not! The fact that you are still conscious and all your blood is still on the inside means that the fair Nicola must be fond of you.”

“Do you think so? She is quite pretty isn't she?”

O'Malley guffawed and thumped me on the back. “Y'know, when y're drunk, y're almost normal ye know that? Here, let me buy ye another.”

It would have been rude to say no.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to JWLM from the Widdershins comments board for 'Belial College, Oxford'.


	2. The Lurker in the Grass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Thackerey and Company help the police with their inquiries._

The next morning dawned bright and clear and I was up early, ready to face the challenges of the new day after an excellent night’s sleep. Wolfe came down to breakfast rather later than usual, looking bleary-eyed.

“Good morning, it’s going to be a lovely day,” I told him. “What is the matter, did you not sleep well?”

“No, no I am fine,” he declared, in the face of the evidence. “Perhaps a little over-indulgence in the Folly last night. A cup of coffee and I will be better. How are you? Do you have no after-effects from the scrumpy?”

“Should I have?” I asked. “There is, perhaps, a slight dryness in my mouth.”

“Ach, there is no justice in this vale of tears,” he complained and started looking for the coffee pot. O’Malley of course never gets up before 10 o’clock, even when we have an appointment with an important client and, as usual, he had to be prised out of bed. He looked even worse than Wolfe. Eventually I managed to get them both to sit down and have some breakfast. Afterwards Wolfe and I washed up while O’Malley made his contribution by polluting the air with several of his disgusting roll-ups.

\-----------------*

As there had been ten days of hot and humid weather it was no surprise at all to see a dark and ominous bank of rumbling thunderclouds looming over Widdershins as we walked to our rendezvous with Captain Barber. Despite my best efforts we were almost an hour late. One of the negative aspects of Wolfe’s easy-going attitude is that he has a terribly relaxed outlook to timekeeping and of course O’Malley does not care about such things at all. Naturally, I find punctuality very, very important, not only because it upsets me to think that I am keeping other people waiting, but also because it is unprofessional to arrive late for an appointment. O’Malley always finds my anxiety very amusing. I suspect he dawdles deliberately because he knows I become agitated if he makes us late. To make matters worse I was apprehensive that my indiscretions of the night before would not have improved Captain Barber’s temper.

We did eventually reach the Fingerpost, the large signpost at the crossroads where the main roads than run through Widdershins meet. Captain Barber, looking even more irate than usual, was waiting with a large official police four-wheeler. We arrived just in time, because the storm clouds were closing the sky like a lid and the time between the flashes of lightning and the rumbles of thunder was getting shorter. It is well known that the Great Anchor draws the lightning and it seemed that every thunderstorm in England was converging on us. Captain Barber was in no mood to wait out the storm.

“Let’s go Turner,” she barked at the unfortunate constable assigned to drive us, “we’ve already wasted far too much time. Don’t spare the horses!” Constable Turner climbed up onto the open driving seat of the carriage with a look of long-suffering resignation while we all clambered inside just as the heavens opened. As we pulled away through the torrential rain, I felt that I should at least attempt some form of apology.

“Ah... Nic... Er... Captain Barber... er... about last night…” I began.

“Mr Thackerey!” she interrupted. “This is advice that I usually give to naïve and impressionable young _women_ , but when a group of grinning men offer you a drink in a public house and tell you that it is not alcoholic, do _not_ believe them! Do I make myself perfectly clear?”

“Er, yes, perfectly, Captain Barber, and can I just say...”

She gave a disgusted snort and turned to Wolfe to discuss our rates of pay for the work to be done. I always leave the financial negotiations to him; he is so much better at it. O’Malley went to light one of his disgusting roll-ups, until Captain Barber glowered at him and he wisely put his tobacco back in his pocket.

Unfortunately, the thunderstorms, although a fine spectacle from the inside of the coach, did not help our progress. It was over twenty miles from Widdershins to Dr Price’s estate, which would be a journey of several hours at the best of times. Our late start did not help matters and then the constant rain made the roads more and more muddy and impassable. Our pace slowed as the conditions deteriorated and the horses became more and more alarmed by the constant banging and flashing of the thunder and lightning. The storms, having paid their respects to the Great Anchor, pursued us down the road, pouring down cascades of rain on our coach. I had the irrational notion that the spirits of the lightning were being drawn by Captain Barber’s anger and were following us like a pack of stray dogs following the butcher’s delivery boy.

To make matters worse we had a long delay due to an accident on the road. A large farm cart had overturned and blocked the road when the horse was scared by the lightning. Wolfe and Captain Barber got out to help clear up the mess, Wolfe by stripping down to his vest to help lift the cart and push it to the side of the road, Captain Barber by shouting lots of orders, which allowed her to vent her anger before it finally reached the critical violence threshold. Was it my imagination, but did the storms finally stop following us once she had had the opportunity to release her rage? At least the rain eased for the remainder of our journey.

\------------------*

It was approaching evening before we finally reached our destination. I had not planned on an overnight stop so I had not brought any luggage, but now the horrors of a night in a country inn without any clean cuffs or collars loomed large before me. Wolfe and O’Malley were of course vagrants before I gave them meaningful lives, so sleeping in a bed that someone else had slept in the night before and which would probably be crawling with all manner of blood-sucking parasites held no horror for them. At least the days were long so there was still enough daylight for us to search the wood and find the imbued staff before it got dark.

The estate had a typical country villa, a substantial building of no more than 10 bedrooms or so, with enough surrounding land to keep the _hoi polloi_ at arm’s length. In a hollow behind the house lay the small wood were the magic staff had been hidden.

As is so often the case, the rain had cleared away the dust and humidity of the long hot spell to leave a bright sunlit evening with clear views over the countryside. There are those who actually like this kind of thing, amazing as it may seem. They tell me these panoramas are beautiful and travel out into this wasteland specially to admire the scenery and paint pictures so they can remember it later. Myself, I find the whole thing rather distasteful. Everything is laid out in such a haphazard fashion. The hedges are always crooked and never spaced evenly; the trees are always different shapes and sizes with no attempt to make them match and the plants don’t even have the decency to all be the same shade of green. What I see when I look at the countryside is the most appalling jumbled mess. Not only that, the entire place is crawling with every kind of loathsome insect, spider, worm and rodent, the mere thought of which makes me shudder. I could foresee that I was about to earn every penny of the fee that Wolfe had negotiated.

A gravel path led from the main house through the formal gardens (where at least an attempt had been made to impose some kind of order) down to the wood we had come to search. The copse was irregular in shape (of course) and perhaps half a mile across at its widest point. Small enough, but a perfect place to hide a missing stick – unless of course, Thackerey and Company are on the case. We all went down together, although really it was only O’Malley who needed to go. At the entrance to the wood the gravel path turned into a boggy track. I stopped in horror. Captain Barber looked at me quizzically.

“Is something wrong?” she asked, immediately on the alert. ”Can you sense some evil summoning ahead?” Her night stick appeared in her hand as if by magic.

“No, it's just that..., “I shuddered in revulsion. “I can't go in there. The path is all muddy.”

“Muddy?”

“Yes, look at it! It's going to ruin my boots! And it will end up on my trousers too. And these woods must be crawling with vermin.” As if on cue, an enormous vile rodent leapt out of the undergrowth and stopped in the middle of the path, not 10 yards away. It sat up and looked at us, bold as brass, its disgusting whiskers twitching, its dangerous sharp teeth bared. I shrank back in horror. Wolfe made shooing motions until it ran to the nearest tree and climbed up the trunk onto a branch, no doubt ready to pounce on unsuspecting passers-by.

Captain Barber turned on me in exasperation. “Mr Thackerey! I have seen you run into a magic circle to desummon a Deadly Sin! I have seen you remain in a collapsing building to deal with a gigantic b*ggerup! How can you possibly be afraid of a squirrel?!”

I edged backwards. “But those teeth!? The smallest bite is sure to turn gangrenous!”

 “Come _along_ Mr Thackerey!” snorted the Captain in disgust and strode off along the path. I took a first tentative step, trying to keep to the driest parts. It was hopeless. After ten steps my shiny patent leathers were completely ruined.  I wondered if I could claim for a new pair of boots on expenses.

“You know this mud is exactly like the stick we are looking for,” remarked Constable Turner, who was bringing up the rear.

“How so?” asked Wolfe innocently.

“Because they are both brown and sticky of course!” replied the Constable. Captain Barber turned to glare at him and he was wisely silent for the rest of the evening. I had the distinct impression that he had just gone to the bottom of the promotion list.

The path through the wood led to a small clearing near the centre. Around the edge was a ring of standing stones and in the centre a large slab lying horizontally that looked distressingly like a sacrificial altar.

“This is where we arrested Price,” explained Captain Barber. “The staff can’t be too far away.”

I looked around with trepidation. Captain Barber had not mentioned that such danger would be involved. Like most non-wizards, she clearly did not realise exactly what these stone circles represent. I had thought they had all been made safe long ago, but it seems there are still some that have been overlooked.

“This accursed place must be radiating all manner of harmful emotions,” I warned them, desperate to make them aware of the peril we were facing. “These ancient pagan sites always do. The centuries of unspeakable rites that have gone on within them leaches into these eldritch stones and reaches across the generations to wreak its evil on mankind, even in this modern age. You have no idea of the harm that those horrific nightmares from the past like Stonehenge did, before we wizards finally persuaded the authorities to sink the stones safely in the depths of the ocean and plough up the ground where they had stood!”

I jumped as the glade was suddenly illuminated by a dramatic flare of flame, but it was only O’Malley lighting another of his disgusting roll-ups. The light from his Congreve made me realise how fast the day was fading.

“Nah,” he sneered. “There’s nothin’ like that here at all that I can see. This’s a big pile of rocks.”

“If you’d bother to look carefully,” retorted Captain Barber, “or indeed look at all, you’d have seen that these are all new. There’s no moss or lichen growing on any of it. Didn’t I say that Dr Price was reinventing druidism? This is no ancient site. He had these bits of stone shipped over from some quarry in Wales last year. So far as we can tell, the only things that he’s sacrificed on that altar have been a few chickens, and as he ate them for his dinner afterwards we can hardly charge him for slaughtering them here rather than in his kitchen.”

“But… but he was seriously trying to reawaken the Earth Power? He must have been insane!”

“Which part of ‘nutter’ did you not understand?” snapped Captain Barber impatiently.

“So, where should we start looking?” asked Wolfe.

“Yeah, well, probably about there,” replied O’Malley with a casual gesture of his disgusting roll-up.

“How can you be sure?”

“Well, I can see this big stick over in the branches of a tree. ‘s glowin’ really bright. Could be worth a look ye think?”

He led the way across the circle, but Captain Barber suddenly swung around on the alert.

“What was that?! I saw something moving through the grass!” We all looked around, but the ankle-length grass in the clearing was still. I was afraid that it might be another vile rodent. After a long, tense minute we all relaxed, although Captain Barber was still not happy.

“I could swear I saw something,” she grumbled. “Let’s go and see what O’Malley has found for us.” We picked our way through the undergrowth to a tree about twenty yards away, off to the left of the circle. O’Malley indicated a large stick wedged in the lowest branches at about head height. It would have been easy to walk right past it, if we had not had his ‘gift’ to spot it for us. Once he pointed it out to, I could see that it was little more than a piece of branch, although some crude attempts had been made to fashion it into a primitive staff. No doubt Dr Price felt that this gave it some form of ethnic authenticity, as opposed to imbuing a staff made by a competent craftsman.

Captain Barber looked at it dubiously. “Are you sure that’s it?”

“Heh! Ye go to all this trouble to bring me ‘ere an’ then ye dun believe me,” complained O’Malley.

“Fine! Stand back while I…!” Captain Barber strode forward to grasp the staff but then stopped as her hand was about to reach out for it. She made a small noise in the back of the throat and then tried again. Once more, her hand froze immobile as she tried to grasp the artefact. She went red with effort and she ground her teeth, as though struggling with some internal conflict.

“I… I can’t pick it up! Why can’t I pick it up?”

“Eh, because it dun want ye too,” explained O’Malley, who obviously found the situation highly amusing. “Din’ ye say it were domination? It is at that. It dun like ye much.”

Captain Barber focused all her will to reach the staff again. “I’m not going to be beaten by some d*mned stick!” she snarled.  She was. “Turner you try,” she ordered. Constable Turner had even less success than his Captain.

“Alas, it seems you simply cannot get the staff these days,” Wolfe exclaimed. If anyone else had said that, they would have been limping for a week. As it was Captain Barber only ignored him.

O’Malley threw away the stub of his disgusting roll-up and gave an impatient sigh.

“Ah well, I were kinda 'opin' I wouldn’t need to get involved, but 'ere…” He walked forward and pulled the staff from the tree as though it was no more than an ordinary lump of wood.

“How… how did you do that?” I asked, amazed.

“Eh well, bl**dy thing may be tellin’ me what to do but it dun mean I’ve got to take any notice do it now? I’ve always 'ated people tellin’ me what to do.” Despite his many and obvious character flaws, I’ve always suspected that O’Malley has more wizardly power than he admits, even to himself.

Captain Barber went to take the stick but it still resisted her, much to her annoyance.

“Right!” she declared. “O’Malley, you take the stick back to the carriage. Looks like there’s a path leading back to the house right there. Turner, you go with him to keep the chain of evidence intact. Don’t let it out of your sight until it is locked in the evidence trunk. We’ll get it back to the station and then our wizards can play with it to their heart’s content.”

“Are you not coming back with us sir?” the Constable asked.

“No, I want another look at that stone circle. I’m sure there was something moving around in there. Mr Thackerey, you’re with me, in case there is anything that needs to be desummoned.” She moved off back towards the circle. Reluctantly, I followed her. Wolfe moved to come too, but Captain Barber turned to stop him.

“No, not you! You go back to the coach with Constable Turner and O’Malley,” she ordered.

Wolfe looked surprised that he was not required. “But surely I can be of some help if…” A sudden thought seemed to occur to him and I do believe he supressed a smirk. “Ah, of course, I understand. We wait for you both at the coach, yes? Take as much time as you need.” With that he strode through the undergrowth after Turner and O’Malley. Despite the rapidly fading light, there wasn’t any alternative for me but to assist Captain Barber with her inquiries.

No matter what O’Malley might have said, the standing stones still made me nervous as we stepped into the glade. Even if this was only a new replica circle, any wizard would be uncomfortable in such a place, knowing what they represent. If Dr Price was really seeking to awake the ley lines again then he was truly insane and the creation of a device to make others obey him would be as nothing compared to what he had planned to do.

Captain Barber had no such worries. I wondered if this was because she was extremely brave or because she didn’t have a wizard’s knowledge. I suspect it is the former. She stood by the altar in the centre of the circle as though she owned it, surveying the long grass with a penetrating professional eye. She is a remarkable woman.

“There!” she suddenly exclaimed. “I knew there was something else here.” I looked to where she was pointing. There was definitely a movement in the grass; something moving unseen like a fish beneath the surface leaving a ripple on the surface of a pond. I tried to convince myself that it only another of those vile rodents but from the way it moved I could tell that it was something far worse.

“We should have brought O’Malley,” I quavered. “He would have been able to talk to it.”

“Nonsense! I’m not going to rely on people like him and Wolfe to do my work for me!” She drew her night stick. “I’ll soon sort this out!”

“No! Stay here!” I protested. “I’m the wizard. Let me…”

 Captain Barber turned on me angrily. “No, _you_ stay here. I’m the _police_ , _I’ll_ handle it.”

“But…”

“One more word and I’m going to get very cross.”

There was no answer to that, so I allowed her to go forward, even though my heart was in my mouth for her sake. She pulled her night-stick out of her sleeve and strode towards the lurker in the grass, but as she advanced the movement stopped. She approached the place where it had been cautiously. Suddenly I saw a track of movement through the grass, coming towards her rapidly from the side, like a pike racing in to attack a minnow. I cried a warning, but too late. The track ended at her left foot just as she stepped down. There was a flattened squeak. Captain Barber gave a cry and grasped her leg as it folded up under her and she collapsed onto the grass. I ran forward to assist, but belatedly I saw the second track heading for me. Before I could stop myself my foot came down on it and there was an evil little giggle. I felt a wave of weakness and confusion rush up from my leg through my body and into my brain. As I fell to the floor I saw the creature I had trodden on, like a small ball of long grass with little arms and legs, dispel back from whence it came, still giggling as it departed. Even then, I still didn’t realise exactly how much trouble we were in.


	3. Beneath the Trembling Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Benjamin Thackerey discovers that no good turn goes unpunished_

The tingling and weakness in my leg soon passed, as I knew it would, but the confusion in my head did not. As I slowly got up, Captain Barber was already on her feet, her night stick in hand, looking for something to pummel.

“What was that?” she demanded.

“I’m fine, thanks for asking,” I replied. “That, I am afraid, was something called a ‘stray sod’. It is a lump of earth and grass imbued with confusion and misdirection. When you stand on it, those feelings are transferred to you. It’s quite a well-known spell. Very popular with students at the University.”

“And will they be back?”

“Or no, once they’ve been stepped on the magic is released and they are dispelled. Of course there may be others about, but now we’ve been imbued it won’t make any difference if we tread on another one. I expect Dr Price left them here to trap any unwelcome visitors.”

“And what do they do? Are we in any danger?”

“Not really. All they have done is make us confused and disorientated. We now have no sense of direction and we won’t be able to find our way out of these woods. But don’t worry, it isn’t permanent. Come the dawn, the effects will be dispelled.”

“Lost? Don’t be ridiculous! How can we get lost here? There’s a perfectly good path back to the house and it’s no more than half a mile!” I sighed. That is what people always say the first time that they stand on a stray sod.

We spent the next hour walking round and round the wood trying to get out. At first we tried following the path, but I could have sworn it was now going in completely the wrong direction and anyway, there seemed to be many more forks than when we had come. We could not even agree where exactly the path was and in the end we lost it altogether. At one point we thought we could hear voices calling to us, but we could not even be sure in which direction they were coming from. By this time, it was almost completely dark and it became impossible to walk through the wood without tripping over roots and brambles.

Finally, Captain Barber, who had been getting more and more annoyed, called a halt in a small clearing. “This bl**dy magic is too strong,” she finally admitted. “You say it will dispel at dawn? Fine, we’ll settle down here for the night. It gets light early this time of the year, and it’s warm enough. Let’s get a few hours’ sleep.”

“Sleep out here? In the wood? On the ground?!” I could hear my voice starting to rise in panic. “But there might be snakes! Or … or _hedgehogs_!”

Captain Barber closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose in exasperation, exactly the way my mother used to when she had Finally Had Enough.

“Hedgehogs?”

“My father showed me one once when I was little. He held it in his hand and you could see the fleas leaping from it like a fountain. I was traumatised for days afterwards and….”

“WILL YOU SHUT UP YOU USELESS PATHETIC LITTLE MAN!!” she yelled in my face. “Why am I surrounded by bl**dy idiots?! Is it really too much to ask to have someone I can actually rely on? It’s bad enough having to get help from you three morons, but when even the people who said they’d be there for me when I needed some support let me down I wonder why I even bother with all this!” She calmed down enough to take her face away from mine and continued her rant in little more than an enraged shout.

“Do you know, when I was visiting my parents last week, I was in the middle of telling them about how I saved Widdershins from Mayor Mad Old Witch, when the maid announces my bl**dy sister Nora and her bl**dy daughter. Immediately Mum and Dad ignore me and fawn over their wretched granddaughter. After all I've achieved – forged my own way into a male dominated police force, got promoted to the rank of Captain, risked my life to keep everyone safe from all kinds of criminal, mundane and magical, I thought they’d be proud of me! But no! All that counts for nothing in their eyes compared my sister, who's never shown an ounce of initiative in her life and married young to some second-rate artist without a penny to his name, because she is the one who has whelped a mewling brat!”

She waved an angry finger in my face to emphasise her point.

“And Grandma Izzy is just as bad! Does she appreciate what I've achieved?! Does she H*ll! She only has time for Harriet because she's the one carrying on the family tradition with her bl**dy hunter's licence and _my_ dog and her bl**dy stupid wooden pipe from France, even after what she did to me...!”

She stopped in mid-sentence, her voice thick with long-suppressed emotion. I reached out a comforting hand.

“DON'T TOUCH ME!” she snarled. My comforting hand was swiftly withdrawn. I could sense that she was already regretting revealing her thoughts and frustrations to me because in doing so she had revealed something of herself. She was going to resent my having that knowledge and that power over her, as she saw it. Unbending enough to accept comfort would have given her an obligation to me that would have been more than she could tolerate. She moved away and started to thrash down the weeds with her nightstick as though they were dangerous criminals.

“If we're going to be stuck in this bl**dy wood we might as well at least try and get some rest,” she grumbled, “that is if we can get any sleep with all these bl**dy birds singing.”

“Nightingales.”

“I did _not_ ask.” Without further ado, she rolled up her police cape to use as a pillow and laid down on forest floor. With the long practise of one who has to be on duty at all hours and must snatch rest where she can, Captain Barber was asleep within minutes, despite the nightingales and the gentle breeze rustling through the leaves. Even asleep her face was pinched and angry as she twitched and muttered in her unquiet dreams.

I looked at the mud with horror. Standing on all that dirt was bad enough. Lying down on it was completely out of the question. What if an earwig were to crawl into my ear and I couldn't get it out? An idea began to form. It wasn't as though I was going to get any sleep anyway. Selecting the cleanest and strongest twig I could find, I picked it up with my handkerchief and began to draw a magic circle around us both, being careful not to wake the sleeping policewoman. Then double-folding my handkerchief in a vain attempt to keep my ruined trousers clean, I sat down on it, not without a shudder of horror, and began a summons.

It's no secret I have a duff degree and not from Widdershins University at that, but I have had lots of practical experience with my malform desummoning. My summoning is perhaps not as good as it might be, but here I had the conduit, I had the circle and I had the offering, and unlike, for instance incantation engineering, where it is necessary to stuff a spirit into an object more or less against its will, in this case I knew the Spirit would want to come, if I could once attract its attention.

Slowly, in response to my chanting, the green walls of the magic circle grew and the area was flooded with soft golden light. I looked up into the face of the spirit hovering above me. I hoped Captain Barber would not wake up yet, but I should have remembered that this particular spirit would not want or allow that to happen. The policewoman was the conduit after all.

“What is the offering?” asked the Spirit of Tranquillity in a gentle, soothing voice. When summoned, the spirits take on a form that approximates to some mundane creature, usually a human, but sometimes an animal. Often the form can be quite unpleasant. There is some debate as to the how much the form is dictated by the nature of the spirit and how much by the mind of the caster. Tranquillity appeared to me as an attractive young woman, floating above us in a haze of golden light on four feathery wings. A pleasing enough manifestation, but I wish she had had the decency to cover her knees.

“The offering is the trouble of this young lady asleep within the circle,” I replied. “She is brave, resourceful and dedicated to her work, but her selflessness brings her unhappiness. The protective walls she has erected around her soul have now trapped her in a prison where none can come to give her comfort. Spirit, will you ease her anguish by calming the ravening monsters in her mind? Lay her sorrow to rest or send it into the past. Make her days go by unharmed by sorrow and charm her sweet existence. Bear her to the happy isles of dreamland.”

“The happy isles of dreamland?!” exclaimed Tranquillity. “You have never actually met Lord Morpheus have you?” No I have not, thank the Lord, and I hope I never shall. He is said to be even worse than his dread sister, whom we all must meet at last.

“A mere figure of speech. I ask you to ease the turmoil of this deserving young woman and my offering is the comfort that you can bring to her and the laying to rest of her unquiet dreams.”

The spirit sighed. “If only you wizards would drop the rhetoric modules from the degree course and talk to us like normal people, it really would be a great benefit to communications for everyone.”

She floated down and hovered over Captain Barber. “Ah yes, this one is indeed trapped inside her own mind in a cage made from her dedication to service that none appreciate. Her I will help.”

The spirit wove an insubstantial canopy of roses made from golden light around us. Captain Barber’s face softened as her nightmares were taken away and her anger and frustration were soothed. In her dreams, she smiled. It was the first time I ever saw a smile upon her face. A single tear ran down her cheek.

For the rest of the night I sat inside the magic circle and watched Nicola Barber sleep. I could not remember the last time I had been so content. It occurred to me that in all my striving to make the business a success and impose some order on an unruly World and keep O'Malley and Wolfe from getting us all killed, I had actually forgotten how to be happy. Perhaps Nicola isn't the only one trapped in a cage of their own devising. 

As the dawn broke, I felt the confusion in my head clear as the effect of the stray sod ended. The Spirit of Tranquillity was released by a few words and her glow faded into the golden light of the sunrise. I was just erasing the magic circle when Captain Barber stirred and awoke. The worry lines and the frown awoke too. It may have been my imagination, but did they not return in such strength and intensity?

“Good morning. Did you sleep well?” I asked her.

“Yes, very well.” She frowned suspiciously. “What are you doing? Have you been playing at magic while I've been asleep?”

“No, no. Well, just a simple protective circle to keep away any more little unpleasant surprises Dr Price might have arranged. Wouldn't want them attacking us while we were asleep.”

She gave me a long, hard look. It occurred to me that she was probably a much better policewoman than I was a liar, but I wasn't sure she would be at all pleased if I told her the whole truth. I imagine she really hates soppy.

“You will probably want to have your wizards sweep the area again to pick up any other imbued guardians,” I continued quickly. “If you like, I’m sure that Thackerey and Company could offer very competitive rates for site clearance.” She gave her usual disgusted snort which told me we were not going to get the contract, which in the circumstances was probably just as well.

Looking around, I was not surprised to find that we were only a few yards away from Dr Price’s pretend stone circle. Somehow, in the dawn it looked much less menacing. A thrush was sacrificing a breakfast snail on the altar stone, but it flew away when it saw us coming. As we followed the track out of the woods Captain Barber was unusually pensive and subdued.

“Look here, Mr Thackerey,” she began, “Last night in the woods I was tired at the end of a long and stressful day. I may have said more than I intended.”

“That’s quite alright,” I assured her. “I understand completely.”

“Only, I would not want the things I said in the woods about my family repeated, do you understand?” The edge was back in her voice. “I am sure I can rely on your discretion.”

“Ah…, oh right of course.” I should have known better than to expect an apology. “You can rely on me to keep quiet. Firstly, because I aspire to be a gentleman and I would never repeat any confidence divulged to me by a lady. Secondly, because I value and admire your work as a policeman - woman - and would not want to see you lose face in the community and thirdly, and most importantly, because if I betray your trust I know you will hunt me down and break several of my more important bones with that big wooden nightstick.”

“You have a surprisingly astute grasp of the situation Mr Thackerey,” she assured me.

 We left the woods and walked back to the house down the gravel path. Constable Turner, Wolfe and O’Malley were just emerging from the police coach, having spent the night inside. My pleasure at seeing them again lasted all of the five seconds it took for O’Malley to be his usual obnoxious self.

 “Well, I trust the two of ye had a really nice time together in the woods last night,” he grinned, lighting his first disgusting roll-up of the day.

I could feel myself blushing a deep red. Captain Barber looked absolutely furious.  O'Malley guffawed while Wolfe gave me a knowing leer.

“You spend some time together is good for you both, yes?”

“We were lost in the woods.”

“Woods that’re no more than a half a mile wide with lots o’ paths leadin’ back ‘ere? Yeah, right.”

“We were affected by some summoning,” retorted Captain Barber with a scowl. “A wandering b*st*rd.”

“Stray sod.” I corrected her.

“Whatever.”

“Look there was no impropriety at all,” I protested, terrified that I might have ruined Captain Barber’s reputation.

“Of course not. And the fair Captain got grass stains on her back when she fell over.” remarked Wolfe innocently.

“Listen,” snapped Captain Barber. “We were trapped in the wood, we couldn't get out and so we slept rough. That is all. Do you honestly think that I would be involved in anything 'improper' with Mr Benjamin Thackerey?” A perfectly true statement of course, but for some reason something twisted in the core of my soul.

“Yeah, right.” O'Malley told her. “Nothin’ improper, 'course not.” As he spoke he was looking at the space above the Captain's head and for some reason was highly amused by what he saw there.

“I can see your reasoning.” added Wolfe. “After all, friend Ben would be an attentive, polite, devoted husband who would never look at another woman, who has his own successful business and who is obsessive about keeping the house tidy. What woman would _possibly_ want to marry such a man?” Captain Barber turned such a look on him that for a moment even his impenetrable good humour was perturbed.

“Now friend Mal, I believe it is time for us to make a hasty departure!” He and O’Malley made a disorderly retreat back to the coach.

I turned to Captain Barber.

“Look, er..”

She looked as though she was about to kill someone. “Shut up and get in the coach! I want that staff safely back in Widdershins as soon as possible.” I am afraid any tranquillity she had acquired during the night had not lasted very long.

“Of course.” I got into the coach with Wolfe and O’Malley. Captain Barber decided to ride outside with Constable Turner, who was struggling to maintain a poker face as though his career depended on it. It probably did. I could tell that it was going to be a long and uncomfortable drive back to Widdershins for everyone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Lord Morpheus and his dread sister are the creations of Neil Gaiman_

**Author's Note:**

> Captain Nicola Barber, Benjamin Thackerey, Heinrich Wolfe and Jack O'Malley are the creations of Kate Ashwin.


End file.
